I need to start getting my shit together. Im over extending myself because I thought the world was going to rotate around me. Timing though I guess was never my thing. Lets look at things simply… Who are the people that matter. How do I pull through for them. Well for starters I matter because if Im not a healthy human being how can I help a single mother fucker. What does that mean? I think it means sobriety. In all forms which is something that make me want to shoot myself because I fucking love to drink…even mouth wash. Its just so easy falling victim to vice everything is literally at my finger tips but the desire to succeed. Im facing 3 months of unemployment talking about ripping the band-aid off and what will my anesthetic be? Poverty and the inability to afford vice? No thats just the cause of my situation. Clarity? Its hard to have a crystal fucking clear image of what I want when Im standing around home depot waiting to be picked up on a contract or bein’ up in da  Hong Kong club wit my titties out trying to make you holla for a dolla to feed my kids. Of course I could always just go work full time for the Elk Street Soap Company studying the fine art of tight rope walking with the HNIC Eric Kocher AKA Big K AKA Arch Enemy of #BallSawNigger.

It seems while deployed in the sensory deprivation tank that is Kabul I become that Phoenix rising from the ashes that is my civilian life only to explode like a glorious #RWR July 4th final finally fireworks display. I feel depriving myself here in America will not have the same effect rather I feel I become the sea gull begging for food waiting for someone to throw me alca-seltser in which case I will explode but there will be no resurrection just a bloated corpse waiting to be cleaned up like all trash from New Jersey.

In sobriety I fear the angry voice of Hyde barking in the backdrop of my mind can only be silenced by White girls, alcohol and of course actual women. Tomorrow on my road to recovery I think I will go back to fighting at my local gym with my POW crew its been a while but I know that if I’m not sharp I will get smacked around a bit. Then I believe going around looking for work maybe a productive outlet. I would say might be healthy but that leads to inner dialogue which allows Hyde to start screaming to be released and not necessarily on the world but on my true arch enemy… David Casserly. Is this all dramatic effect and just a fun storyline to scare and entertain the people I love and hate. Or is this an honest reflection of self that longs to be heard and understood by the only audience I give a fuck about David Casserly and Beaux Engelbert but choose to share with voyeur’s because its the only way to truly come clean to both men. Whatever it is I should stop posing hypotheticals and just start what ever process of which I decide.

A good Marine is his best when his team has a mission because it means they have been entrusted with getting shit down with Victory or Valhalla as their rewards. Its time to get my team physically and mentally prepared to break us out of the prison we choose to constantly cycle in and out of. Sadly though that prison is the place you can check out any time you like but you can never leave. Unless of course your a fucking nerd and move back to the middle of no where. Pho-k You CaRi-fornia and your fake tits, Ferraris, beaches and blondes. Where the forecast is always a blizzard and the 9th ring of hell known as Los Angeles claims the souls of every Prom Queen that steps off the bus. I know that sounds a little hackey’ and cliche but fuck so is everything else in that town. The only thing faker than the people is the disdain I have for the place because I wouldn’t dock my vessel so close to the sirens call if I didn’t want to crash into the rocks of the Hollywood sign.

Believe it or not this what 69 hours of sobriety sounds like from Mr. Hyde because the man who gives into his baser self is a helluva lot nicer. For when he sins he casts the stones upon himself  and if you find this disturbing a brother of mine once told me “If you want to find out who your real friends are be sober” and if you don’t want any friends at all be out of your fucking mind but god damn bluetooth technology makes everyone look crazy. So I guess telling the truth maybe the best form of insanity we have left.